World Party Night
by anillusionthatcantend
Summary: All of the Nations have received a mysterious letter regarding a party at Germany's house.
1. A Cordial Invitation

All the nations had received a mysterious letter.

Belarus wondered, as she clung to her (shivering?) dear big brother, why this imbecilic letter had come. Had it come to harm her big brother? She thought of crumpling it up. Tearing it up? Burning it? Kill the sender? Crumpling it up, tearing it up, burning it and then killing the sender?

She was about to crumple it up, as Ukraine burst into the room. _Boing._

Her blue eyes widened, and shimmered at the site of Belarus' big brother. Such a long time…

"Ivan~" she let out, and nearly hugged him, (_boing)_ when she was interrupted by Belarus.

An unamused Belarus with a jealous look tinting her cold and calm features spoke, "Big brother is mine." Belarus reached for her trusty knife.

Ukraine panicked and stepped away. _Boing. _"I'm not supposed to be here anyway. I'm sorry… M-my - " Her deep blue eyes glittered, tears gathering on her eyelashes. "I was just looking for – " She spotted the red, white, and green envelope in Belarus' pale hands.

Russia squirmed, as Belarus traced Ukraine's gaze.

Ukraine bounded forward. _Boing._

Paying for gas didn't seem to matter much anymore, to Ukraine, even though her poverty problems had improved just a bit. Not much.

Belarus reluctantly let go of the envelope, and suddenly, Russia burst from her grasp. "Big broth – " She tried to wrangle him in. "You're supposed to marry me! Marry me!" she growled, and chased after him.

"Katyusha ~ " Russia grasped at empty air, reaching for Ukraine.

Ukraine hoped that she was doing the right thing, despite her boss, and whimpered, "Stop it, you're hurting Ivan!"

Belarus protested as she tugged Ivan's sleeve, "He's supposed to marry me – " but she didn't dig her nails into his skin, keeping a sure hold so he wouldn't flee.

This might've ignited a war, but…Ukraine held the envelope up to the light. She read it out loud, "You are invited to a special party at – "

* * *

China reached for the red, white, and green envelope tucked under his straw mat placed in front of his house.

He felt a clap on his shoulders. "Iva – " He turned around. Maybe he was getting too old... crazy even.

It was Taiwan, not Ivan. "What is it, Mei?"

"What is that?" she pointed at the letter, letting go of him.

"Just a letter." He responded.

Taiwan's eyes lit up, as China opened it up and read it. Especially at party.

She squealed with glee. "Are we going to go?"

"Sounds fun!" He read it over, as Taiwan ventured off to find Hong Kong, and drag him along to shop for a new party dress. "You are invited to a special party at… Germany's house at – "

* * *

"Arthur – " A sing song voice with a French accent tinting it rang through the air. "It's time for your – Oh ho ho~ what is zis?" A green, red, and white envelope sat at Arthur's bedside. "A love letter? Not from moi?" France picked it up.

"What are you doing, you wanker frog? Perving through my bed?" England's annoyed voice came to France.

France looked up. "I – well, look at this." He showed the envelope.

"Give me that." England snapped, snatching it from France's hands.

England opened it up, and read: "You are invited to a special party at… Germany's house." At this point, France looked genuinely alarmed. "At 6:00 pm. Dress – " France suddenly spotted the bed, and a creepy look gathered on his face.

* * *

"Casual." America read out, clapping Canada on the back. Canada held out the letter, and was reading it, when America actually recognized a word. "That I can do!" he said.

"A party!" America exclaimed, and pulled Canada along.

"A party…" Canada murmured, considering the chances of getting to know the world better at a party. He hardly ever was invited.  
"Who are you?" the white bear in Canada's arms asked, looking up at his master, still not knowing who the hell his master was,

"I – I'm Canada. The one who's going to a party." Canada tried an honest smile, as America yelled out.

"Mattie, we've got to bring the best drinks because it says that it's – "

"I – I'll bring Timmies."

* * *

Japan came back from the tedious walk to his mailbox from his door. He really was getting old.

Suddenly, a letter dwindled out of his hands.

He sighed.

Japan stooped down, and opened the letter, placing the others on the bamboo table. Was it in Italy's stationery?

… It smelled of tomatoes.

He couldn't read Romaji letters very well, anyway. "A social gathering?" he said to himself, as he read it quietly.

His once emotionless face brightened up. "It's potluck. Today!" He rushed to the kitchen, and started pulling out his steamer, his rice bags, and salt.


	2. Arriving

"Veeeeeeeee~ Heya Germany, may I invite some friends over?" Italy turned around from Germany's window, grinning as Germany removed a black forest gateau from his oven. There was a fresh layer of snow on the ground, sparkling white, Italy tempted to run outside and make a snow fettucini dish.

He drooled as he pictured yummy pasta made out of the snow - as long as Germany's dogs didn't use it to make dirt.

Germany observed the black forest gateau. Could've used more flour. "Well, vhy don't you just go back to your house if you want to invite friends?"

"No, I want to spend Christmas with you, Ludwig! We'll sing, dance, drink, and I'll make pasta for you!" Italy responded enthusiastically, dancing his way over to the kitchen. He stared at the black forest gateau. "That looks yummy!" Italy's mouth watered, and as he reached for it, Germany slapped his hand to prevent him from taking a piece of the cake. "Pleeeeeeeeeeeease - just a piece, Luddie?"

Germany frowned down at the Italian. "Feli, I baked the _Schwarzwälder__Kirschtorte_ for Mr. Wulff - no, you may not have any."

Italy sighed, rocking back on his heels as Germany set it on a counter. "So'a, can I invite some friends over?"

Germany sighed, as he grabbed a rag, and started to wipe the counter with it. "I suppose, as long as you von't make more of a mess." He wasn't going to be responsible for the huge messes Italy made frequently, though he ended up cleaning it anyways. He liked his home to be neat and tidy.

Italy did a salute. "Yes Mr. Germany sir!" He headed off, flipping open his cellphone excitedly, punching in numbers.

Germany sighed, as he wrung out the rag, determined to finish cleaning it before Italy's friends came over.

* * *

He was, however, not pleased, to answer the door to Poland and Lithuania tagging behind him. He studied the Polish man, currently dressed in woman's attire: a red sequined halter top and dark-wash skinny jeans, with glossy cherry red pumps. Poland was holding a bowl.

"I came for Italy's party. And, oh my gosh, is dat what you're like, wearing for his party?" Poland scoffed in disgust.

Party? Party implied lots of people, messiness, and general wild activities. Germany turned back to where Italy was cooking pasta, humming. "Italy - I thought it was just going to be a few friends!" He didn't even like Poland.

Italy's head bobbed towards the door, and he untied the tomato apron from his neck. He floated towards them. "Ciao Feliks, Toris!" He grinned.

"Hey, Feliciano!" Poland smiled, still examining Italy.

The Lithuanian behind him smiled. "Hello Italy."

"Veee~ I see you brought food for the potluck!" Italy had changed into a silk ebony-coloured dress shirt, with an amber tie that complimented his sparkling eyes and wreath of auburn hair. He held out his hands to take the bowl from Poland.

"Yeah, dat is paluzki." Poland stepped inside the household.

Germany was gritting his teeth, irritated. "How many nations did you invite, Italy?' He fixed Italy with a cold stare.

Italy smiled, despite Germany's harsh glare. "All 196." He gave a bright, white smile. "Though some may not come."

Germany was relieved to know that some may not come - but over 150 countries in his own house? It was bad enough that Italy was staying over for Christmas. Germany had gotten used to Prussia living in his basement - but Prussia was a true party animal. Germany wasn't sure how to react, so he just buried his face in his hands. "Mein Gott." He was surely going to drink a lot tonight. He was not going to burst in front of Poland and Lithuania.

"Ludwig?" Italy asked curiously, as Prussia came up from Germany's basement, donning a black and white hoodie.

Prussia laughed, drawing his hood from his face. "What's this party about? I got this text." He waved around his cellphone. He raised an eyebrow at Lithuania and Poland, but didn't say anything. "Why didn't anybody tell me?"

"Gilbert!" Italy turned to look at the owner of the rough voice. "I'ma holding a party, and you're invited!"

Prussia smiled at the Italian. "Well, let's get this party going - there aren't too many people here yet." He realized with distaste. He sneered at Lithuania and Poland. "Never thought you'd guys be the first ones."

"Neither did I, but like, Liet totally made me be early. He was all like, hurry hurry hurryyy we gonna be laaaaaaaaate." Poland shook his head, sending a wave of strawberry shampoo scent towards the German, the Prussian, and the Italian.

"I-I just worry about being late!" Lithuania stuttered.

Prussia sighed, leaning against the wall. "Well, Feli, I'll help you cook."

"No, Gilbert! I'll just'a cook by myself." As far as Italy was concerned, all Prussia could cook was wurst and beer. Prussia's cooking might be as bad as England's, Italy worried. "You can help'a set up! I already bought some stuff."

"Fine." Prussia sighed. "Come bruder, ve must help Ita set up!" He slapped Germany on the back, and hauled Germany off.

Germany was glaring at Italy, his glare dripping with acid, as he was towed by Prussia.

"So what do we like, do?" Poland questioned.

* * *

England fixed the collar of his forest green shirt before he rung the doorbell to Germany's house, knowing he would be the first to arrive, the gentleman.

He, however, was not pleased to see Italy answering the door... not that he had anything against Italy, but more the people behind him: Poland and Lithuania.

"Hey'a England!" Italy smiled. "You didn't bring any food, did you?" He checked England's hands warily like an airport security guard, as if whatever food he brought, if he had brought any, was going to explode.

"No, I didn't get the invitation until two hours ago. I had to kick France out of my house too. That isn't enough time to grocery shop for my _special_ ingredients I put in my scones, then prepare it all, then bake it, then drive over to your place." England shrugged. "Sorry."

Italy sighed of relief. "Pheeeeew. Ve." Then under his breath, he murmured, "Don't want to poison the partygoers."

"What?"

"Nothing, nothing." Italy gave a grin, welcoming England inside the German home.

England handed Italy his coat, and shoved off his shoes.

"Heya, take off your shoes here or Germany will get mad." Italy warned, opening the closet door which was full of cleaning supplies and not a boot, shoe, or coat disorderly. He slid the jacket onto a hanger, and hung it on the rack.

"Ah, okay." England slipped off his shoes, and placed them in the closet. Germany ran a tight ship, not like England didn't approve. England highly approved, actually. This was the night where he would tell Seychelles his feelings. That was pretty much the only reason he had decided to come, aside from needing a good drink. He always needed a drink when France had tried to rape him earlier.

"I'm just'a gonna be in the kitchen!" Italy smiled that innocent smile, and walked towards the kitchen.

Poland came up behind England, and clapped a hand on his shoulder.

England turned around.

"I looooo~oooove your dress shirt. It, like, brings out that, like, gorgeous green in your eyes. Do you wear green often?" Poland clutched the fabric fondly.

England clutched the collar of the shirt to examine it. "Oh, well thank you. I... don't really pay attention to whether I wear green often, actually." He wondered if it was appropriate to compliment Poland's rather unique sense of fashion.

Poland laughed, and pivoted on his red heel to go find Lithuania, who was presumably helping with decorations.

England sighed.

* * *

The place had quickly transformed with the Germans' hard work, Italy's and Poland's fashion sense, and Lithuania's diligence. Countries, apparently, could do a lot in an hour.

Germany wondered how he would clean it up tomorrow, he thought. He wasn't used to decorating his place like a discotheque.

The wall was covered with wall coverings. The floor had been transformed into a glossy black expanse. Neon lights reflected off of it, and a huge disco ball glittered above the dance floor. The bar was stocked with every liquor and spirit imaginable, bright lights adorning it, glasses filled with sparkling liquids.

Germany, with dismay, had seen that he had transformed his own house into a club... he swore, as he laid down in his bedroom, breathing hard. "I didn't know that I could do that much work in one day." He muttered under his breath.

"Heya Luddie?" Italy's voice came from the hall.

Germany looked up from his bed. "Vhat is it?" He asked, pushing himself to sit upright.

Italy walked towards Germany. "Thanks for helping out. I know you'a weren'ta happy witha me, but thanks for helping anyway. I should've told you first."

"Just now you're telling me this?" Germany sighed, and collapsed back on the bed.

"Yep." Italy smiled that blunt but adorable and lovable smile. He was in front of Germany now, still smiling.

Germany got back up and fixed Italy a glare. Italy was so frustrating sometimes. "You should've told me first!"

"I know, I know. But it'll be lots of fun, and there probably will be lots of pretty girls and good pasta!" Italy started to go off into his dreamland, muttering about pasta.

"Italy!"

"I'm kidding. I have you, though just in case, I want a pretty gir - "

"Oh, silence." Germany grabbed Italy's wrist, pulling him close.

Italy laughed as Germany released it. His arms entwined around Germany's neck, and their lips crashed together. He smiled in the kiss.

Germany inhaled Italy's scent, a delightful mix of pasta and wine, both to consume. A sense of adrenaline ran throughout his body. His tongue brushed against Italy's lower lip, demanding for entrance.

A sharp clear note chimed throughout the house, and they broke apart.

"That's the doorbell." Germany murmured. "Should I get it or you get it? After all, it's your party."

"Neither." Italy drew Germany closer, and pecking him on the lips quickly. "I'll get it now." He bounded downstairs.

It actually turned out to be a hoard of nations waiting outside, and Prussia had already gotten the door.

"Yay food!" Italy said, as he flew down the stairs, seeing the bowls, plates, and containers before the actual countries. "Ciao! Welcome!" With all the countries (30?) he didn't have time to greet them all...

**I****'****m****just****lazy****and****I****need****some****fanservice****, ****quick****. ****Plus****, ****if****I****introduced****all****the****nations****in****one****chapter****, ****that****would****be****a****pretty****long****chapter****. ****I****'****m****just****lazy****, ****too****...**

**This****is****also****a****request****pairing****fanfiction****, ****so****just****request****a****pairing****you****'****d****like****to****see****. ****.**


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